


Empty, Spent, Broken

by gohoubi



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Mildly Dubious Consent, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Shameless Smut, Tommen and Margaery are married, the 'teaching' of 'skills'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16679329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gohoubi/pseuds/gohoubi
Summary: The Queen Regent is sceptical of her daughter-in-law's skills. Margaery schools her in pleasure.





	Empty, Spent, Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently this work wasn't realistic enough the first time, so I revised it :D
> 
> Hope you enjoy Empty, Spent, Broken Mark 2!

The note had come underneath her breakfast plate that morning. Other than a name, there was no other identifying information on it. No seal, no signature.  
It could have been a prank, poorly-veiled sabotage. But Margaery has never passed up an opportunity. For anything.  
As the note had promised, there were no guards, and the door was slightly open. A gust of wind passed through the hallway, chilling her to the bone.  
There was still time to leave. To pretend she’d never seen the message. She had thrown it in the fire as soon as she’d read it, and her memory of it was getting hazy, like a disturbed reflection on water. Was it really a summons? Or was it just a strangely worded note? But if that were true, wouldn’t the Queen just talk to her in person?  
Margaery tiptoes to the door, and opens it. The fire is roaring in the grate, reminiscent of dragons, which she’d only heard about in stories. Moonlight spills across the Queen’s solar, illuminating her golden hair and sparkling across her goblet of wine.  
The Queen sets her glass down on the balcony wall with a clink, evidently as a prelude to speaking. Margaery curtseys. “Your Grace.”  
“You came,” she says softly, without preamble.  
“It is not wise to refuse a Queen,” Margaery replies. “No matter what her request might be.”  
The Queen comes closer. “I cannot see why Tommen is so taken with you. Yet his infatuation is extreme. Pray tell, why is that?”  
“A good Queen must know what her King wants,” Margaery replies vaguely.  
“Yes. Yes, I agree. How about you show me how you have bewitched him so?”  
The Queen gestures to her massive four-poster bed, upholstered in silks and fantastical colours.  
Margaery has never been above sexual manipulation. It was always a weapon she could wield to her advantage. But using it on the Queen is a realm completely out of her expertise.  
The Queen gets on the bed. “Well? What are you waiting for?” She smiles, but there is no warmth behind it. “As you said, it’s unwise to refuse a Queen.”  
Margaery was always sure of herself, of her worth and her place in the world. But now she has been struck dumb by this situation.  
She gently climbs on top of the Queen, trying not to hurt her. Margaery slowly removes her dress, and flings it to the side.  
The Queen sighs irritably. “How long are you going to take?”  
“Your Grace, I -”  
“Do I have to do everything myself?” She grabs Margaery’s hand and thrusts it between her legs. “Not so much of a slut as you pretend to be, are you?”  
_Slut? I’ll show her what a slut looks like!_  
With strength Margaery didn’t know she has, she pulls the Queen to her level, their lips crashing together like waves upon a shore.  
Margaery doesn’t expect the Queen to reciprocate. But she does, with chapped lips tasting of wine and moonlight. The Queen clutches one of her lover’s breasts, squeezing painfully. Margaery sucks in a breath, but otherwise gives no indication of pain. She will not give the Queen that pleasure.  
“Take it,” the Queen hisses. “take it like the dirty noble whore you are.”  
The Queen roughly pushes her new lover’s head down, towards her cunt. Margaery briefly considers doing something cruel like biting, but decides against it. She does not want to incite the wrath of the queen.  
When Margaery touches her tongue to the Queen’s pearl, she stiffens like a board, nearly crying out. “Please,” the Queen whines, “please, keep going.”  
Margaery switches tack, and slides two fingers into the Queen’s warm cunt. Her fingers quickly grow slick with her juices.  
“This is what I do to your son, every night.” Margaery tweaks the Queen’s pearl with her thumb, which makes her sob with pleasure. “You wanted my skills.” She leans closer, to whisper in the Queen’s ear.  
“This is what you’ll get.”  
Margaery can feel her own warmth, between her legs. She knows she will come soon. But she is here for the Queen, not for herself.  
“Let’s spice things up.” Margaery rakes her uncut, sharp fingernail across the Queen’s pearl, eliciting a high, strangled scream. “There’s nobody to save you. You said it yourself.”  
She pushes herself up, so she is eye to eye with the Queen. “For the next few minutes, you are mine, Cersei Lannister.”  
The Queen manages to grab Margaery’s throat hard enough to hurt, digging her nails in. “Don’t ever call me that again. Or I’ll push you straight off a cliff.”  
“I’d like to see you try.” Margaery flips the Queen over, then stuffs her entire hand inside her cunt. Margaery knows this must be painful. The Lycene courtesan back at Highgarden did this repeatedly to her as part of her ‘lessons’. But she has never done this to anyone else.  
Eventually, the Queen comes, with uncontrollable shaking and a yell of pain. She sobs into her pillow, not even bothering to hold herself together. Margaery washes her hands in a pitcher of water on the solarium table.  
“The pain should go away soon. Until tomorrow, your Grace.”  
That is where she leaves the Queen. Empty, spent, broken, and thoroughly chastened.


End file.
